If we’d praise peace we must praise corruption-
For men love glory and war and have to be
Bribed from both. You hang up your helmet,
Your breastplate and pistols and plan a parterre
For which you’ll need money. And here is
Who pays himself hugely for paying off others,
To feed you the stuff. So deals that are frankly
Disgusting get done over claret and beef
In order that wonderful temples of virtue
May rise on knolls and the make-believe peasants
In broad-brimmed sun hats and low cut smocks
May pass round the flask as they rest from mowing.